


It's You I Desire

by KickingRocks



Category: South Park
Genre: And a flirt, Angst galore, But he rolls with it, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I still can't tag anything to save my life, M/M, Michael is a little bit more than innapropriate, Pete and Michael haven't met yet, Pete is kinda lost, Songfic, Their also teenagers (almost twenty), This is what I do instead of looking for a job, alternative universe-ish, partial songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KickingRocks/pseuds/KickingRocks
Summary: Michael had a dream about red and black hair beneath him, pale skin with freckles dotting the creamy expanse.He found those freckles, that red and black hair, the being he craved in his dreams but couldn't match a face to.This kid was what Michael desired, plain and simple.And Michael didn't deny his desires often.





	It's You I Desire

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm a little iffy to post this because I don't usually write things like this, but I heard this song (Desire by Dommin) and all I could think of was Michael basically flirting onstage with Pete in the crowd and Pete being nothing but obedient and bowing to his will, almost like he always is already.
> 
> I highly suggest that you listen to the song first before you read it, or you listen to it as you read it because it helps greatly with the mood. Here's a link for it from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKvbY8KAp3s
> 
> Also, I don't own anything: all rights go to Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Comedy Central and all of their affiliates. 
> 
> With this said, I hope you all enjoy!

In the seedy underground of Denver there ran a chain of bars, a chain of bars  that somehow surpassed the law and the government so that they served anything to a minor as long as you had a fake ID, or even any form of ID for that matter.

Hell, sometimes you didn't even have to have that.

This place was called Le Cure.

The seedy, dingy, shady ass place that more than likely should have been closed down and condemned a long time ago.

And that was where Pete Dyle Tomphson found himself: in said seedy and shady underground bar in Denver with a cheap ass beer in his hand that he wasn't even actively drinking.

His amber eyes flicked down to look at the neon green 'X' on his hand that held his beer that appeared to glow in the shitty bar lights, it was the one that the man at the door had given him with a sharpie that the stupid Ken-doll conformist kept attached to his shirt.

Apparently it was supposed to show that he was there for the show.

The man had marked him then shoved him inside, claiming that he shouldn't have to deal with 'stupid punk ass kids' like Pete.

What a fucking tool, man.

Pete had had the momentary urge to turn around and tell the man exactly where to stick it, but then he heard the voice come over the microphone.

_"The Demonicrats will soon be preforming, so I ask now that everyone settle down while we get them set up"_

That's what Pete was here for: to watch the Demonicrats.

Or at least their lead singer. He had heard the man was the best vocalist in Denver and Park County.

Pete sighed and took another sip of his beer as he waited near the front of the bar's stage, grimacing as the foul taste assaulted his tongue and overwhelmed his sense of taste.

He really should stop trying to drink.

He didn't need to be drunk before the band even introduced themselves.

With that thought in mind Pete set his beer down onto the floor with the intent to leave it, not caring in the least bit that he could get in trouble for it or the fact that it was definitely a waste of his last two dollars and fifty cents from his paycheck.

Just then his eyes caught on a figure at the corner of the stage, it was a black and orange haired boy peeking past the curtains. 

He looked nervous.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen-" the announcement over the system startled Pete from his observation, and he had to take a moment to realize that it was the DJ for the night that was talking- "I give you the Demonicrats!"

Pete didn't notice until everyone started clapping how many people were there.

The place was practically packed. 

Pete scooted back into the crowd a little bit, working his way towards the middle to get a better view as he watched the band file out.

The long black and orange haired guy from before took the place behind the drum set, followed shortly by another male with buzz cut hair who was carrying a bass, followed by another guy with shoulder length hair that was carrying a guitar.

Pete watched in slight interest as they arranged themselves, the bass player on the right of the drum-set and the guitarist on the left.

And that's when it occurred to Pete: the microphone in-between the guitarist and bass player was vacant.

But Pete was quick to catch the male figure moving from the edge of the stage, his eyes locking on it as the figure seemed to effortlessly stride across stage to his place.

He looked like a ghost floating with how fluid his movements were.

He was tall, easily a good two heads taller than Pete even with his creepers on, with perfect wispy hair that fell in his face to slightly cover his left eye and the most startling set of deep blue eyes that Pete had ever seen.

He wore a crisp white button down, the top two buttons left undone to reveal a bit of clavicle and just a hint of pectoral muscles, a pair of tight fitting black jeans, black suspenders connecting to the pants, and a pair of dark boots that looked like a hybrid between combat boots and possibly chuck's.

Pete was never good with shoes, even if he was gay.

A ringed hand came up to grip at the microphone and Pete allowed himself a moment to stare at those long and bony fingers as he drank in the sight of the man tilting the microphone towards himself, making the front leg of the stand come up off the ground.

Pete watched as the band made no move, and he momentarily, for the first time that night, pondered exactly what he was getting into.

_**Yeah!**_

The resound of the throaty exclamation rang through the crowd, the sound loud and powerful and full enough to send Pete's mandible vibrating.

The red and black haired goth watched as the male pulled the microphone closer to him, grabbing the stand with one hand to pick it up and tilt it like you saw all of the famous singers do as a guitar and drum fill continued on for a short moment. The sound low and erotic and full of sexual tension.

_**Oh,**_   ** _lecherousness_ **

The sound from the male's mouth was sickeningly sweet and soft, chesty and crooning in a way that Pete had never heard anyone sing like before. 

The rest of the band seemed to only amplify this, the guitar and bass laying down a heavy and slightly swaying sultry straight rhythm of quarter notes as the drums daldated out a syncopated rhythm that fit perfectly.

Pete just wanted to hear more of that voice.

_**I madly obsess**_

Pete watched the mouth form around the words, grateful for how the man hung onto the high note on the end of the phrase like it was a dying wish.

It added to the intensity of the song, and Pete wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't already a little turned on by the guy.

* * *

Michael felt himself cling to the high note at the end of his phrase, his eyes scanning the crowd as he looked for that certain person.

The one he had seen in his dreams.

The one with blood red and black hair.

The one with pale skin and freckles.

_**How I miss the heat o**_ _**f skin so soft and sweet** _

As he sang the next line he felt himself thrown back into the dream: fingers clutching at his biceps, nails digging into his skin to leave soft crescent moon shapes. Soft pierced lower lip bit by a top set of teeth. The skin ever so pink with a lustful flush. 

He set the microphone down, feeling a light blush dust his cheeks at the memory.

_**It's you I desire.**  _ _**It's you I desire** _

Michael couldn't help but croon this, bending his body down slightly to where he had to stretch his neck up to reach the microphone as he ran a hand down his pale neck to the beginning of his clavicle before he dropped the hand to grip at the mic stand as his eyes continuing to scan the crowd for the man.

He didn't know what it was, but he had a feeling that this man would be here.

_**I hunger and thirst**_

The curly haired raven brooded into the microphone, picking up the stand again and tilting it back to where he bowed over it and sang into the microphone.

And that's when his eyes locked on  _him_.

_**Naturally cursed**_

He was in the middle of the crowd, his eyes clearly trained on Michael's form as he drank in all that was happening.

But he never quite met Michael's eyes.

_**Never satisfied u**_ _**ntil the day I die** _

Michael turned his voice to a rougher tone at the end of his phrase, the slight gravelish tone rolling over the crowd smoothly.

He saw the boy shiver and couldn't help but grin sadistically.

_**It's you I desire, w**_ _**hether it's lose or win** _

Michael sang soulfully, his body swaying with the beat of the song as he put the microphone stand back down in It's original position near the center of the front of the stage.

_**It's you I desire, I**_ _**can't help but give in** _

The singer ran a hand through his hair slowly, swaying his hips sinfully to the beat as his voice trailed off into a breathy whisper. 

_**It's you I desire.**_ _**It's you I desire** _

Michael tossed his head to the side as he sang the line, tossing it the other way as he repeated it and all the while running both hands through his hair with his eyes closed and a look of bliss on his face.

The sounds of the rest of the band took over him then, and he couldn't help but sway himself back and forth like he was dancing enticingly as his eyes locked on amber colored orbs.

The guitar solo pulsed through him and he grinned, continuing to sway his hips as he stepped back up to the microphone.

_**You know what I'm thinking of.**_

Michael winked at the boy as he finished the end of his crooning sentence, smirking at the way the male flushed at his innuendo.

_**You know what I'm thinking of.**_

Michael repeated again, raising his voice a couple steps and adding a sensual thrust of his hips that had the red and black haired male blushing even darker.

_**You know what I'm thinking of!**_

The curly haired male tilted his head back as he held the last note out, making it sound like some sexually frustrated cry instead of a note.

* * *

_**It's you I desire.**_

Pete listened as the cry took over the sound of the band, listened as the hook line rang around them without the need of instruments, and he couldn't help but feel goosebumps. 

This man was amazing.

Pete watched as he began swaying again once the band began to play again, sensually rolling his hips forward every now again as his eyes remained on Pete.

Pete couldn't help but feel flattered.

_**It's you I desire,**  _ _**I can't help but give in.** _

The sexual crooning of the curly haired male caused Pete to bite his lower lip sinfully, his eyes lidding themselves as he watched the singer on stage.

And apparently he didn't miss the red and black haired goth's reaction.

* * *

Michael felt his breath hitch as he caught a flash of white teeth dig into a pale lip, and he couldn't help but remember his dream from before.

_**It's you I admire.**_

A ringed hand reached out to the boy in the middle of the crowd, blue eyes full of lust as lips barley brushed a microphone and the words were sang in such a sinful tone that Michael was sure it would kill him on the spot by tearing out his soul.

_**It's you I desire.**_

Michael couldn't resist the urge to run his hand through his hair again as he sang, biting his lower lip as he finished his line and swaying some more to the beat.

_**Higher, higher, higher.**_

He sang as he carded both of his fingers through his curls and slid his eyes shut, sensually twisting his tall frame back and forth as he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and tossed himself left or right with each repeat like he was losing control of all of his sexual desires.

Which, in all truth, was the truth...

* * *

"Hey."

Michael looked up from signing a copy of his band's E.P., the sharpie in his hand falling to the table as he realized who it was.

It was the boy from the show. The one in the crowd.

The one he dreamed of.

"This may sound weird but, uh-" the figure trailed off for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly- "did you happen to have a very  _sensual_ dream about someone who, uh, had red and black hair?"

Michael smirked and leaned back a little in his chair before stretching his arms above his head, not missing how the red and black haired male's eyes caught on the slight show of pale skin underneath the undone top two buttons of his white shirt.

"As a matter of fact I did, and he looked a lot like you." Michael stated matter of factually, his eyes trained on the other as he watched the pale face flush pink.

"Well, I was wondering because I had a dream-" Michael took the hidden meaning behind the word with a grin- "about a tall male with curly hair and blue eyes that looked a lot like you."

Michael smirked at how much the boy was blushing now, he had turned at least three shades darker than what he had started out as.

The raven watched as the two-toned haired boy stared at him without shame, the amber eyes traveling up and down his tall and lean frame as far as he could see.

"Michael."

"W-What?" The red and black haired goth stuttered as he was broken out of his trance, blushing brightly again when he saw the curly haired male smirk.

He had been caught.

"Michael." The male repeated, leaning forward casually and placing his elbow on the table before resting his chin on his palm and fixing the shorter with a sultry grin. "It's the name you'll be screaming later."

"Is that a promise?" The boy countered back, leaning closer to the other over the table and sighing softly when he felt long fingers brush gently at the hair at the back of his neck.

"Oh it's more than a promise beautiful." The words were a whisper against the younger boy's mouth, the sound hot and heavy and full of what to come.

"Let's go to my hotel." The smaller croaked, blushing brighter when Michael simply smirked darkly.

"Of course, my desire."

Pete always knew he had a thing for singers.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you guys liked it! Feel free to comment and tell me what you thought, what I could do to improve, and what you would like to see from me! I take requests with open arms!
> 
> Now, go out and write more love for our little goth babies. There isn't nearly enough, but, of course, I'm going to change that *evil laughter*


End file.
